The Favor of Herons
by Ashenclaw
Summary: Thalia has her work cut out for her as the head of the Order of Saint Traft. New horrors appear daily to threaten the humans of Innistrad, including the newly formed Lunarch Council and the archangel Avacyn herself. Even with the unexpected favor of the angel Sigarda, Thalia's job as a guardian won't be easy.
1. Arrival

When Thalia founded the Order of Saint Traft, she hadn't expected it to require quite this much paperwork. As she sat at her desk in her makeshift office, a dusty room in a corner of the rundown cathedral, she contemplated delegating the tedious task to one of her lieutenants. When Thalia remembered the look on Gerda's face the last time she asked the cathar to sort through the sea of letters, she laughed and abandoned the notion. A knock at her door pulled her out of her musings.

"Come in" Thalia said, and couldn't help but to smile as Gerda opened the wooden door with a creak. "Ah, Gerda, I was just thinking of you."

The lieutenant glanced at the pile of letters on Thalia's desk and grimaced, clearly remembering the assortment of papercuts she received during her last encounter with those letters. "Thalia, there is someone who is here to speak with you." Gerda paused for a moment after that, measuring Thalia's response.

"Alright," Thalia said when she was no longer able to wait out the silence, "who might this 'someone' be?" In the months since the order's formation, Thalia had only spoken with its namesake, Saint Traft's geist, on a few occasions. The dead had full schedules, apparently. "Is it another envoy from flight Heron?" She tapped her finger against the letter she had been writing, a carefully worded response to an Order priest in Kessig who was requesting aid in their efforts to locate some nameless necromancer. Thalia's response to the request was short; the Order was too busy suppressing the werewolf resurgence to bother with a would-be ghoulcaller. More often than not Thalia's visitors were angels from the only flight that seemed to resist the corruption that have overwhelmed flights Goldnight and Alabaster. Still, Thalia had learned to be wary of angels in recent times, regardless of their flight.

Gerda shuffled uncomfortably. "I suppose the most accurate answer is 'yes'."

Thalia raised her eyebrows in confusion but nodded and stood nonetheless, the legs of her wooden chair grinding against the stone flooring. "I will return when our business is finished, then. Thank you, Gerda."

"Thalia?" said Gerda as her commander exited the room.

"Yes?"

"Would you like me to…" Gerda gestured to the letters.

"No, that's quite alright," laughed Thalia, as Gerda very clearly failed to hide her relief.

Thalia's boots tapped loudly against each stony step of the spiraling staircase as she made her way to the cathedral's loft. The loft, like the rest of the chapel, was forgotten and isolated when Thalia and the Order took it up as residence, informed of its location in Nephalia by Saint Traft himself. The rebuilding and restoration of the holy site was still going on, but the loft was the first part to be restored, a feat Thalia had undertaken herself. She wasn't sure if she had really expected any angels to come once the loft was restored, and when the first envoy of flight Heron, Sigarda's host, did arrive Thalia was more than a little skeptical about them. But the flight had proven to be stalwart allies nonetheless. Flight Heron may not have been as militant a host as flight Goldnight, but their wards had proven themselves invaluable, especially in the forested areas along the coast where the dead did not rest easily. In the end Thalia was grateful for them, even if the distant attitude of the angels had proven to be a tad… discomforting.

The knight-cathar took a deep breath as she approached the doorway that led to the loft. "Here we go." She threw the door open, but the being who awaited her in the solar was no mere envoy of the angel Sigarda's flight.

The angel who stood before Thalia was Sigarda herself, her radiant white wings folded gently behind her.

"Thalia, founder of the Order of Saint Traft and comitant to flight Heron for these past few months. We finally meet." The angel nodded gently, a more personal greeting than Thalia had ever received from an angel before. She froze for a moment before dropping to one knee and bowing her head low.

"Sigarda," said Thalia, "it is an honor. The help from you and your flight has been invaluable to our efforts here." She raised her head and looked up at the angel in front of her, taking a brief moment to examine Sigarda while she had the chance. The angel seemed dressed for battle, heavily armored from the neck down. Her orange hair cascaded down her back, framing her face like the setting sun. Thalia stared, perhaps for too long.

"Is it customary for humans to simply look at each other for this long?" asked the angel. Thalia rose to her feet quickly, at a sudden loss for words.

"N-no, I mean, sometimes? I suppose it depends on the situation," came the knight-cathar's reply.

"The situation? You'll have to explain. I am not entirely familiar with human customs."

Thalia paused for a moment, debating on how best to handle the discussion, though she couldn't help but wonder how often Sigarda spoke with humans herself. More often than not the three sisters only communicated through their envoys.

"Well," Thalia began, "it is not uncommon for humans who share a certain… connection to find a sort of pleasure in each other's company. At times, looking into one another's eyes, among other things, is a sign of… favor."

Sigarda nodded slowly.

"I see. I believe I have seen other examples of humans showing favor to on another. I will keep that in mind. Thank you."

"Of course, Sigarda." Thalia stood still, trying her best not to fidget beneath the angel's gaze. "What business do you have with the Order, my lady?" Now it was Sigarda's turn to shuffle in an almost uncomfortable fashion, the feathers of her wings ruffling in a way Thalia had never seen before.

"I was visited by Avacyn and my sisters recently."

Thalia's fists clenched, and she was suddenly very aware of the empty spot at her side where her sword usually hung. She had left it in her office. If Avacyn's corruption had reached Sigarda, then…

"Don't worry, Thalia," Sigarda said, interrupting Thalia's mental downward spiral, "whatever grip she has on my sisters has not yet touched me. She did, however, make it abundantly clear that if I do not join her my own wellbeing, and that of my flight, is at risk."

Thalia's fists unclenched, though she was still unsure where Sigarda was going with all of this.

"As my solar can no longer be considered safe, and my flight and I are the only ones who know of your residency in this chapel-"

"You want to stay here, with the Order" Thalia finished.

"Yes, you do catch on quick." Sigarda smiled a small smile at Thalia. "I am not used to asking permission from humans, but if you allow it I would like to stay in this chapel. Only for a short time, until I can discover what it is that is causing my sisters and Avacyn to act so… unlike themselves."

Thalia nodded slowly, unaware of it even as she did. How does one deny the request of an angel? Especially one of the three sisters? Especially when that sister has been providing aid to the Order? Still, it was almost too unreal for Thalia to believe.

"Thank you, Thalia. I will not forget this kindness." Sigarda smiled again as she approached the knight-cathar.

"Of course, my lady. It is the least we of the Order can do to repay you and your-" Thalia's reply was cut short as the angel walked closer, forcing Thalia to look up to her (was she always so tall?), and pressed her lips against the knight-cathar's. She froze on the spot, refusing to so much as breath until the angel pulled away, a curious look on her face.

"Was that wrong? Is this not an action humans perform to display favor?" asked Sigarda.

Thalia didn't respond immediately. Rather, she couldn't respond immediately. She was still having trouble breathing, and she was painfully aware of how wide her eyes had become, though she

"O-of course. Yes. Favor."

"Very well. I will begin by inspecting the surrounding area and reinforcing the wards." Sigarda spread her wings wide and took to the air, exiting the loft, and leaving Thalia alone. She made her way to a chair in a corner of the loft and slumped down into it, doing her best wrap her mind about what had happened.

She, Thalia of the Order of Saint Traft, had just been kissed by an angel.


	2. Well Oiled

During the first week after the Order of Saint Traft occupied the Wittal Parish Thalia had established a sort of training ground behind it, not unlike Elgaud's own training grounds. Minus the burning of innocents, of course. It was smaller by comparison, though. There was only so much space with the surrounding trees, but it served its purpose well enough, even if Thalia was unable to spend as much time there as she would have liked. Across from Thalis stood Ernst, a cathar-initiate in his early thirties who had been a Nephalian merchant until recently, when a passing angel "purified" his home with fire, his wife and child still inside.

Ernst charged at Thalia, thrusting his sword towards her, and Thalia sidestepped. She raised her own blade, thinner than Ernst's, and slightly longer, and deflected his attack. Ernst stumbled past Thalia. Before he could catch his balance, Thalia tapped the edge of her sword against his side.

"You're dead," Thalia said. She tried to remember that he was still new to this, but if he dropped his guard like that in a real fight he would receive something far worse than a tap on the side. "I'm faster than you, Ernst," Thalia raised her sword and Ernst mimicked her, "You'll need to wait for an opening to press your attack." Ernst nodded, and this time it was Thalia who lunged forward, dropping low and thrusting her sword towards Ernst's chest. There was a clang of metal as Ernst's sword met her own, sending vibrations up her arms. The pair traded blows, and Ernst's motions were less erratic than they had been before. Thalia still had little difficulty deflecting his clumsy swipes, but progress was progress.

On the few days that Thalia did spend on the training grounds, her time was rarely spent with the initiates. There were other soldiers who had taken on the mantle of "teacher". Thalia, more often than not, spent her time there with Grete. Since the division of Avacyn's church, the cathars had been tense. Avacyn wasn't one for hearing people out nowadays; to stray from her Church to sin. Of course lately there hadn't been much that wasn't "sin" in the eyes of Avacyn and her Lunarch Council. Thankfully she had managed to bring Odric and Grete into the Order as well. But Odric was on patrol, and Grete had gone with him. Odric hadn't been the same since the escape from Thraben. With her usual sparring partners gone, Thalia was left with the initiates.

"Dead," she said again when her blade tapped against Ernst's stomach. But Ernst wasn't paying attention anymore, and Thalia made a note to bring that up with him. Instead his eyes were on the sky. Thalia followed suit just in time to see Sigarda as she soared over them and disappeared into the loft atop the parish's chapel.

"I don't like it," Ernst said, "the angels can't be trusted. She shouldn't be here."

"That's not your call to make, initiate," Thalia replied. "The Flight of Herons has proven to be a reliable ally. Your mistrust of them, Sigarda in particular, is a luxury we can ill afford."

Ernst narrowed his eyes and clenched his fists, grinding his teeth together hard.

"My 'mistrust' is not a thing you can comment on." Ernst sheathed his blade hard, the hilt smashing loudly into the top of the sheathe. "Not until your family is burnt to ashes by one of them." Ernst didn't wait for Thalia to reply, instead he turned on his heels and stormed back into the parish.

Thalia sheathed her blade. She wished the mistrust ended with Ernst, but she knew that was too much to ask for. He was far from being the only member of the Order that questioned the angel's presence. Few were opposed to the occasional envoy, but the ever-watching eyes of Flight Heron's leader made several initiates, and even a few of the knight-cathars, more than a little uncomfortable. Thalia couldn't really blame them, though. Ernst wasn't the only person to have lost everything to Avacyn's crusade, or the Lunarch Council's Inquisition. It didn't help that Sigarda hadn't yet mingled with the soldiers. Fear of the unknown was a necessity for survival. Thalia's assurance that Sigarda was on their side was all that the soldiers had, and she had to wonder when that would stop being enough.

"Thalia," said Gerda from behind her, "that was harsh."

"Gerda," Thalia whipped around to speak with her lieutenant, "I didn't see you." Thalia noticed that Gerda's curly blond hair hugged her head closely, matted in some places by sweat. "I see you've been hard at work with the initiates." She gestured to three young cathars-in-training who were watching the pair from the other side of the field.

"I was about to say the same to you." Gerda raised an eyebrow at her commander, an expression Thalia had learned was representative of disapproval. "Your approach to Ernst's distrust was handled… poorly, to say the least."

"I only told him the truth, Gerda. The Order is small, and we can't afford to be distrusting of one another. I need to know that these soldiers can be relied on.

"They need the same of you, Thalia."

Thalia didn't respond for a moment. She took a deep breath and gestured to the loft atop the chapel. "Do you think this was a mistake?"

"I think," Gerda said slowly, "that it was a mistake to make the decision on your own. Grete, Odric, and I are here to support you, commander. Try not to forget that."

Before Thalia could think of what to say next, Gerda had returned to her three initiates across the field.

* * *

Once again, Thalia found herself ascending the stairway that led to the loft. _Sigarda's loft,_ Thalis reminded herself. The tapping of her boots against the stones echoed and bounced off of the walls just as they had two days before, when Sigarda first arrived. But this time Thalia stopped herself at the door. Before now it had always been Sigarda or her emissaries that came to Thalia. She had never gone to them first, and she wasn't sure how best to handle it.

 _Should I knock?_ Thalia asked herself. _Or do I just open the door and walk in? Knock. Of course I should knock._ She didn't want to intrude on Sigarda's privacy like that. Thalia tapped on the door lightly three times. She waited for what felt like hours (a total of thirty awkward seconds in reality) and then opened the door slowly. It glided open without so much as a squeak and Thalia took a moment to pride herself on how well she had oiled the hinges. She became especially thankful of the extra time she spent on that task when she saw Sigarda.

She was sleeping. Thalia wasn't sure why that was so unexpected, but it was. Sigarda sat in the same chair Thalia had found herself in after their last meeting. After the kiss, which Thalia had been trying very hard not to think about. What struck Thalia the most was how different Sigarda looked while she was asleep. She had abandoned her armor, and it was the first time Thalia had seen her, or any angel, unarmed. Instead Sigarda wore a long green tunic that fell to below her waist and split into several tips toward the bottom, as well as brown cloth pants that Thalia assumed were normally worn beneath the angel's chausses. She was barefoot apart from those.

In the time that Thalia had spent as a cathar she had discovered that, once you take a person out of their armor, they had a tendency to look smaller and softer. Sigarda was an exception. Even asleep there was no doubt that she was a hard woman, and Thalia found it difficult to look away from Sigarda's defined arms, toned from the use of her scythe (a weapon Thalia had once thought of as impractical.)

Sigarda's wings hung slack and reached to the floor on either side of her body, framing her like one of the stained glass windows in the lower chapel. But the open book in her lap, the way her head was propped up in her hand, and the slow pace her breaths came at made her seem surprisingly human. Thalia couldn't shake that thought. On each exhale Sigarda cooed softly, almost like a dove, and her feathers ruffled lightly, making a sound like leaves in the wind. Thalia had known from the beginning that humans were not the equals of angels, she still did, but at that moment she had never felt closer to one. Thalia's eyes were drawn back to Sigarda's lips, and she touched her own lightly. Her face flushed with heat. Once again she was thankful that she had oiled those hinges so well.

As the door clicked shut behind her Thalia paused, and then sat down on the top step of the staircase. Hadn't she, not a moment before walking into the loft, decided that she wouldn't intrude on the angel's privacy? Her face flushed even hotter. She sat on that step for a while, waiting for the red heat to leave her cheeks, not worrying about whether or not Sigarda would find her there. After all, the angel tended to favor exiting through her window as opposed to the actual door. In their first meeting, Thalia hadn't given much thought to why she reacted the way she did upon meeting Sigarda. What person wouldn't stand in awe of such a being? Especially after being kissed by one? But Thalia had to wonder how long it would be before her face stopped flushing when she saw Sigarda. How long before Thalia's heart stopped accelerating in her presence? How much time needed to pass before she stopped thinking about the kiss?

Thalia's hands went to her lips again on impulse, and she took as deep breath. Then she took another. And one more after that. She relaxed her body, allowing her shoulders to slump and her knees to lean against each other.

Thalia couldn't keep on like this. She had duties to the order, and Grete and Odric would be returning from her scouting assignment soon. She rose back to her feet and straightened her posture. She took one more deep breath, exhaled slowly, and took one step downwards.

"I was wondering how long it would take for you to stand back up," Sigarda's soft voice rang through Thalia's head like the bells in Thraben Cathedral.

"Lady Sigarda!" Thalia whipped around on her heels, nearly tumbling down the stairs in the process. "I apologize; I didn't know you had woken." How had Thalia not heard the angel behind her? As quiet as Sigarda was, Thalia should have at least heard the screeching of the door's… hinges. Thalia suddenly found herself regretting how well she had oiled those infernal hinges.

"You seem out of sorts, commander," Sigarda cocked her head to the side, "was there something that you wished to discuss?"

"No," Thalia said, not realizing how short her answer sounded until after she said it. "I mean no, my lady."

Sigarda smiled a soft smile, and behind her the setting sun shone through the loft's open archways, and she was suddenly crowned with a crimson halo, her hair nearly woven together with the light. Thalia melted in an instant.

"If you've nothing to discuss, why do I find you outside my door, commander?"

Thalia found herself at a loss for words. It wasn't that she had none to say, but that she couldn't bring herself to say them, her mouth simply wouldn't move. Sigarda laughed, a gentle and tinkling titter.

"Well," she opened her door wider and gestured for Thalia to enter, "you may as well come in." Sigarda turned and walked back towards her chair, leaving the door open for Thalia.

As Thalia entered the loft for the second time that day she had only one thought; never again, for as long as she lived, would she oil the hinges of another door.


	3. Bargain

By the time Thalia had closed the door behind her, Sigarda had already returned to her seat, legs crossed. Thalia stiffened, a stark contrast to the relaxed way Sigarda was sitting. She cleared her throat.

"I see you've been doing some reading," Thalia gestured to the book that had previously been resting on Sigarda's lap, now closed on the side table next to her. It was covered in symbols that Thalia didn't recognize and she could only assume it was written in the angel's language. "Anything interesting?" Thalia tried desperately to bridge the gap between herself and Sigarda, and she hoped her attempts weren't as blatantly obvious as they felt.

"Mind numbingly boring, actually." Sigarda tittered. "The reading is necessary, though. It's a text on wards, written by one more experienced in their use than I. The employment of wards has always come more naturally to my sister, Bruna," Sigarda's eyes began to gloss over for a moment, "Gisela, for all her military prowess, is even more inept than I am in the way of wards and enchantments…" Sigarda was quiet for a time.

Thalia knew how it felt to lose comrades, but she also knew that she had no way of understanding just how Sigarda felt in that moment. For her own sisters to be influenced so heavily by Avacyn's madness… Thalia had no comparisons for something like that.

Eventually, Sigarda shook her head, a motion that echoed through her wings, and it almost made Thalia laugh.

"But enough about that," Sigarda said, "you were going to ask something of me?"

"Of course not," Thalia replied, a bit too quickly.

"Commander, trust me, I know when a person needs a favor of me." Sigarda rose from her seat and placed her hand on Thalia's shoulder. "You have allowed me to reside here without so much as a second thought. If it is within my power, I will grant your request."

As soon as Sigarda touched Thalia's shoulder, Thalia's body relaxed. She had to look up when the angel stood so close, since Sigarda was a full head taller at least. Even so, there was a sort of warmth to the angel's touch.

"I only ask," Thalia took a deep breath, "that, as often as you can, you spend some time among the recruits, and my cathars."

"Oh?" Sigarda cocked her head to the side. "Is that all?"

"Yes, my lady. Perhaps spend some of that time in the training field, or with the priests in the archives."

"If that is all you ask, then how could I say 'no'?" Sigarda lifted her book from the side table and replaced it in a bookshelf on a nearby wall. "May I ask why, though?"

"Well," Thalia straightened her posture again, "there are a number of soldiers who are… uncomfortable with your presence here. Considering the current inquisition of Avacyn, and the Alabaster and Goldnight flights, the soldiers are afraid. They are… unsure of where to place their trust."

"And what about you, commander?" Sigarda was still facing the bookshelf, her back to Thalia even though she had finished her task.

"What?"

"Are you afraid? Do you not trust me?"

"No," Thalia's response was hard and came quick, and it took her a moment to realize that her answer needed some clarification. "I am not afraid of you. If I felt there was any reason not to trust you, I would not have let you make this chapel your home."

Sigarda's wings fell slack, draping themselves on the floor. "Do you mean that, commander? Every word?"

"Yes," Thalia paused, and even she was surprised at how true it was, "every word."

"Well then," Sigarda turned around, finally, and the smile on her face brought one to Thalia's as well, "I would be more than happy to show the soldiers that I am here to help. I do have a request as well, though."

"A request?" Thalia hadn't expected Sigarda to ask for something in return. In fact, there was nothing she could think of that the angel could even want from her. Nothing she was capable of giving, that was. All Thalia had to offer was the loft, and she had already given that to her. Thalia clenched her fists. She needed her soldiers to trust Sigarda… so what if she was incapable of fulfilling Sigarda's request?

"Don't worry, my working with your soldiers is not conditional on you granting this request of mine." Sigarda approached Thalia and set her hand lightly on Thalia's shoulder, an act that once again caused the cathar's body to relax without even the slightest resistance. "I only ask that, as often as you can manage, you visit me."

"Of course." Thalia nodded, the request surprising her in its simplicity. "I can give reports as often as you like, even daily."

"Oh, no," Sigarda's eyes were sad for just a moment, though Thalia wasn't immediately sure of why, "I meant outside of Order business. Something more… casual. You can visit me here in the loft, or… elsewhere, if that's something you'd like."

Thalia wasn't sure what to say. Sigarda's request had been leagues simpler to understand when she had thought the angel wanted reports. "Visits that aren't reports." The idea was baffling.

Sigarda nodded.

"So," Thalia continued, puzzling out the equation in her head, "something like friends?"

"Yes," Sigarda laughed, "something like that."

"Okay." Thalia took a moment to absorb what was being asked of her. A sort of friendship with Sigarda, an angel. It was certainly strange. "How often should I visit?"

"Well, that's up to you. As often as you like, or if you ever find yourself wishing you had someone to talk with." Sigarda's eyes were, very suddenly, refusing to look at anything that wasn't Thalia. "Or if you ever simply wish to see me."

Thalia felt a heat rise in her cheeks, and she willed yjem not to redden. She didn't have to see herself to realize it wasn't working.

"I think I can manage that, my lady."

Sigarda's smile grew wider, and she nodded her head. Her feathers ruffled in what Thalia could only assume was excitement, and her wings perked up, finally picking themselves up off of the floor. The smile was infectious, and one grew on Thalia's face as Sigarda tried to suppress giggling lightly, a chirping sound that was almost bird-like.

"I'll get to fulfilling my end of the bargain then, commander." Sigarda was at the large open window of the loft in an instant, her wings spread wide. Before taking flight, she paused and looked back to Thalia. "There is one more thing I would like to ask of you. Two things, actually."

Thalia, stilled stunned by the series of unexpected turns the conversation had taken, could only nod in acknowledgement.

"Would you mind… if I call you by your first name, commander?" Sigarda was playing with her fingers, and Thalia realized that she wasn't the only one having difficulty with words. "Of course," Sigarda continued, "you are more than welcome to simply call me by my name as well. In fact, it would make me very happy if you were to do so." Sigarda stood there, in the window's opening with one food hanging outside, and waited for Thalia to respond. For the first time, she almost looked vulnerable, capable of being wounded. "That isn't too much to ask, is it?"

"No! O-of course not." Thalia waved her hands quickly, realizing how long she'd been standing there and doing nothing. "I would like that as well, my la-… Sigarda."

"Thank you… Thalia." The named rolled off of her tongue slowly, and it came with a lilting tone that set it apart from everything else she had said. Thalia's breath caught in her lungs. Sigarda smiled and nodded, reaching for her scythe which leaned against the wall beside her. She fell backwards out of the window, her wings unfolding behind her, not breaking eye contact with Thalia until she had disappeared completely.

Thalia was smiling too. She couldn't help herself, though it surprised her. She hadn't thought that Sigarda would want to be so casual, and for her to ask that they see each other outside of business was almost too much for Thalia to absorb. But it made her happy, too. She covered her face with her hands, as if doing so would make the smile fade and the giddiness vanish, but it didn't. Instead, she started to laugh. Thalia laughed in a way she had never laughed before, and the strange, excited feeling echoed throughout her entire being.

Eventually the laughing subsided, but the grin wouldn't leave. She couldn't stay in the loft for forever, though, so she decided she'd have to wear it for the rest of the day if need be. Thalia lingered in Sigarda's loft for a moment longer, taking in everything that happened, taking in the room around her.

Just a few days ago it had been without personality, a space meant merely to host formal meetings between flight Heron and Thalia, their chosen comitant. It had been pristine in a way that the rest of the chapel, that the whole of the parish in fact, had not been. Thalia had seen to that personally. From the doorway there were two stray steps that led to the room, which was now clearly more than a simple meeting room.

From those two stray stairs, on Thalia's right, there was a simple bed. It was one they moved from the parish's living quarters, and Thalia had originally been embarrassed that there was not a sort of bedding more fitting for one with Sigarda's rank. It was the same hard mattress that the soldiers used, that Thalia used, with the same scratchy sheets, though Thalia had went to great lengths to ensure none of Sigarda's were stained or weathered. Just across from it, tucked against the wall on the other side of the stairs and door, rested the chair and side table Sigarda had been sleeping in only a short while ago. Any free space against the walls was filled with standing book shelves, though they couldn't contain all of the reading materials Sigarda had brought.

That was what truly made the room feel alive. The books were scattered everywhere. Most were organized on the shelving, but some were stacked on the table, or even scattered about the room on the floor half opened. Thalia had no idea how Sigarda could have even gotten them all here so quickly, but she had. She knew she had granted the angel leave to use the room as she wished but the untidiness of it all was… unexpected. Without thought, Thalia began picking the books off the floor and stacking them on the table wherever there was room. The titles were mostly in angel-tongue, so Thalia didn't afford each of them anything more than a curious glance. Aside from one.

The one book written in the common-tongue caught Thalia off guard in title alone.

" _The Knight and Her Kind"_

Curious, she flipped to the first couple of pages, glancing over the synopsis.

Thalia's eyes widened, her face reddened, and she nearly through the book onto the bed in her haste to put it back down. It was a romance novel. Not the sort that one would hide away for fear of embarrassment, but the sort that, from what Thalia had gleaned, exemplified the courting of a woman of nobility and position by a knight.

Thalia's breath caught in her throat as she realized the breach of privacy. She rushed out of the room as quickly as she could, silently closing the door behind her and doing her best to ignore the pang of guilt in her chest.

As she reached the bottom of the staircase and took the first few steps away, she noticed something peculiar. She had ascended and descended those stairs countless time, but this was the first time that her footsteps didn't echo in the same way. Her smile melted away and her hand went to the hilt of her blade. The parish was warded, that included the chapel and its loft, so it was unlikely to be a geist tapping away at the walls, but it couldn't have been one of her soldiers either. What reason would they have for sneaking around?

Thalia's eyes searched the chapel's main room that the base of the staircase opened into, but she saw as much as she heard, which amounted to nothing. The cathar took a deep breath and removed her hand from her blade. She didn't have time to chase imaginary oddities, Grete and Odric would be back from patrol soon, and she had to be ready to meet with them. She made her way to her stuffy office, and she couldn't help but think about how stark the difference was between that dusty room and Sigarda's loft.


	4. Debriefing

Odric was absent from the briefing the next morning, though it came as no surprise to Thalia. At the behest of Grete, Thalia had allowed the scouting party's report to be postponed from the night before. Grete had hoped that, after a night of rest, Odric would be refreshed enough to participate. Thalia knew better; her old friend hadn't known a restful night since they fled Thraben together. Since he killed a young cathar that he had shaped with his own hands.

As it was, only Grete and Gerda joined Thalia in her little office. It was early in the morning, but still late enough that the sun ought to have lit the room through the stained glass depiction of Avacyn behind Thalia. Regrettably, the sun had developed a terrible shyness in recent months. The thick coat of clouds, a singular mass of churning malevolence, blocked the potential light from reaching the ground. Thalia allowed her thoughts to drift, for only a moment, to the only being who seemed to radiate light in the same way as Avacyn once did. For a brief moment she thought of crimson hair and pure wings, as untouched by corruption as newly fallen snow. For a brief moment she thought of Sigarda.

"Alright," Thalia tapped her finger on her desk, looking between Grete and Gerda, "give your report."

Grete's report was standard. Or, rather, it was what had become standard. Expanding and newly forming cults, along with the new beings that those cults worshipped. Small changes in previously unchanged villagers and city citizens. The fading Cursemute, and ghoulcallers that grew more reckless and bold each day. And the angels. Always the angels.

"Is that all, lieutenant?" Thalia asked.

"Not entirely," Grete began, "We did come across something strange at the edge of the territory we patrolled. It was the corpse of a werewolf."

Thalia's could see Gerda's eyes furrow from across the room, though it took Thalia a moment to catch on as well.

"How long was it dead?" Thalia asked.

"The body was cold," Grete replied. Rigor mortis had set in, and the body had already begun to decay when we found it."

"Death reversion had not occurred?"

"No, it had not."

"Did you recover the body?"

"Naturally," Grete pointed towards her feet, "it is being examined by Bard and one of the initiates below."

Thalia nodded. To say she disliked the network of cells beneath the chapel would only be a small understatement. It was a cold and damp place that smelled strongly of the unique fungi which grew there. As much as she detested it, Thalia knew she would need to visit the sour place soon if she wanted a first-hand look at the werewolf.

"Thank you, Grete." Thalia turned her attention to Gerda. "Have you anything to report?"

"Yes," Gerda stepped forward, her hands clasped behind her back, "recently we've-"

Gerda was interrupted by a knocking at Thalia's office door, a light rapping whose sound, strangely enough, seemed to lighten the very air. Thalia rose and opened the heavy wooden door, hoping for an instant that Odric had come after all. After the fact, she would have sworn she knew who it was before she had even left her desk. As flowing cloth and rustling feathers filled the open doorway, Thalia could nearly hear the hearts of her lieutenants pounding, a rhythmic crescendo she could have danced to. Then again, Sigarda tended to have that effect on Thalia as well.

"Thalia," Sigarda greeted the knight-cathar, seemingly accustomed to the impact she had on mortals, "I was delayed in my arrival. I felt a strangeness in the air last night, and thought it wise to ensure that this chapel's wards were reinforced."

"Of course, thank you," Thalia opened the door wide and gestured for the archangel to join her and her lieutenants, "please come in." Thalia was acutely aware of the way Sigarda spoke now, an air of formality cloaked the angel. It was a stark difference compared to how they had spoken the night before. Still, Sigarda's use of her name, as opposed to her title, was not lost on Thalia. She returned to her seat and, to her surprise, Sigarda followed her so that the archangel stood immediately at Thalia's side. Though it did make more sense than if she were to stand next to Grete and Gerda, and Thalia was sure that their response to such a thing would be at least somewhat comical. Even with Sigarda on the opposite side of the room as them, the lieutenants' eyes were still trained on her.

"Grete, Gerda," Thalia cleared her throat loudly in an attempt to pull their attention back to herself, "you both know of Archangel Sigarda. Sigarda," she gestured to the two women across from them, "these two are Grete and Gerda, my closest lieutenants." The three eyed each other for only a moment longer, exchanging nods of recognition. "Gerda?" Thalia urged, encouraging the woman to continue her earlier thoughts.

"O-of course, commander." Gerda's eyes flashed towards Sigarda once more, but she continued quickly. "As you know, the majority of our monetary support comes from sympathetic lords and ladies, and a number of merchants and traders. Recently we've received letters from one of them, a Lord Arthur Logarian. Apparently he, and a number of our other benefactors, are displeased with our order's extreme secrecy."

Thalia cocked her head to the side. "They are, of course, aware that we are in hiding, yes?"

"One would assume," Gerda shrugged and sighed, "but he and his rallied allies are threatening to withdraw their support if they are not provided with the opportunity to visit our base of operations and see for themselves what we are doing with their support."

"Is this… a joke?" Thalia was having a difficult time even understanding what she was hearing, as simple as it was. "It is hard enough to keep the exchange of letters away from the eyes of the Lunarch Council. To cart these nobles here without the Inquisition's knowledge is impossible." Thalia took a deep breath. Chewing her nails was a habit she had kicked when she was young, but situations like these always brought her thumb inching closer to her mouth. She'd taken for granted the funds that the church had, and the nobles were proving to be sizably larger thorns than Thalia had expected. There was a reason she had become a knight-cathar and avoided the church politics. The uncomfortable silence continued for a moment, until the air beside Thalia was disturbed by Sigarda's shifting feathers.

"Would they find a compromise amenable?" Sigarda asked.

"It's possible," Gerda's response came slow and steady. "What did you have in mind, Archangel?"

"A, oh what's the word for it..." Sigarda frowned and clasped her fingers in front of her. "Like, a gathering or celebration. The Voldaren lineage has them all the time." She tapped the side of her head with her finger, as if she could somehow physically jog her memory of the word. "Oh and I just read the word recently too…"

"A… ball?" Thalia offered.

"Yes!" Sigarda clapped her hands together and smiled. "A ball, of the masquerade variety! Human nobles love to display their wealth nearly as much as the vampires do, yes? Plus, all of the decorative masks would serve to protect their anonymity, as well as your own."

"I doubt they would agree," Gerda frowned, "we would need something at least as curiosity-piquing as this chapel."

"Good," Sigarda's lilting voice took on a quality that was more than a littler mischievous, "tell these lords and ladies that the Archangel Sigarda will be present, on the condition that Logarian is the honored host."

A stunned quiet blanketed the room. Grete and Gerda shared a look that was caught somewhere between a vague understanding and awful confusion. Thalia, for her part, leaned back into her seat, her mouth a tight line on her face. She didn't need to guess too much about how Sigarda has come up with such an idea; her thoughts flashed to the book that had been lying on the archangel's floor. Thalia realized that all three of the others were looking to her, waiting for her to say something. Say anything.

"Sigarda," Thalia finally looked to the angel, not focusing too closely on any particular aspect of her for fear of losing her train of thought, "you must know it is unwise to reveal yourself when you are being hunted as much as we are. Why would you want to put yourself in such a position?"

"A number of reasons," Sigarda was not as conservative in her gazing as Thalia was, looking at the commander with an intensity that she had never seen before. From anyone. "Namely, to prove myself to the Order, and to you."

Thalia's heart skipped a beat and her mind went racing in a way that was entirely new. Had Sigarda's voice actually softened and taken on a musical cadence on her last three words, or did Thalia imagine that? Why was it that even when the angel spoke plainly to Thalia, it seemed as if the words were layered with hidden meanings? Surely she was looking too much into it, she had to be.

"Gerda," Thalia's voice was strong, betraying none of her wandering thoughts, "write Lord Logarian, ask if he finds Sigarda's conditions acceptable.

"Of course, commander, though I'm sure he would be thrilled to play host to an archangel," Gerda nodded back, leaving the room as Thalia dismissed her.

"Grete, see to the initiates for the day. Inform Bard that I expect a full report on the specimen when he is through." Thalia flipped through a stack of letters in front of her and slid them to the side. "Which of the initiates is with him?"

"Aedriel," Grete said.

Thalia knew him, a thin lad that had been training in the field with Gerda the day before. She hadn't thought he looked like he had the stomach for corpse-work. Still, she'd been wrong before.

"Thank you," Thalia waved her hand quickly, "you may go."

"Yes, commander."

"And what about me, Thalia?" Sigarda turned her body to face the seated cathar as Grete closed the door behind her. "Have you any orders for me?"

Thalia looked up at Sigarda, and there was that smile again, somehow chasing the faintest traces of tiredness from her body.

"I'm not sure I would feel comfortable giving you orders, Sigarda." Thalia shook her head slowly and rose to her feet, thought she still had to look up to meet the angel's eyes. "It isn't my place."

"An interesting theory, to be sure. Though I can't say I agree with you, Thalia."

Thalia raised an eyebrow, a silent question for the archangel.

"Between us, I am not the one who has nothing to prove," Sigarda continued, "and you are the commander here. This," she gestured widely towards the edges of the room, "is not Avacyn's Church. This is not a religion you are leading; it is a force for survival. I am not what drives this Order, or what encourages it to continue evolving and moving forward. You are."

Thalia nodded slowly. "In that case, I ask that you help our apothecaries tend to the wounded. Grete's scouting party returned with no casualties, but it seems there are more injuries with each patrol. I am sure they would appreciate your aid, and your words even more so."

"Yes, Thalia." Sigarda turned slowly, shuffling her wings to better navigate the room.

"Wait, for just a moment," Thalia stopped the angel as she opened the door, "earlier you said you had a number of reasons to endanger yourself for us. What were the others?"

Sigarda smiled. "As I said, I wish to be of use to you. I owe the Order much for the arrangements it has made for me, and mingling with these humans may provide me with a chance to learn more about what is happening to my sisters. Plus," Sigarda gave Thalia a sly wink, "I rather think I would like to see you in a dress."

 _Well,_ Thalia thought to herself as Sigarda closed the door behind her, _I certainly couldn't have imagined_ that. She wished the angel hadn't left so quickly, though, since she would have appreciated some more time to talk with her. Possibly to ask her about… well, first and foremost to admit that she hadn't been entirely truthful with Sigarda about exactly what a kiss meant to humans. Maybe that's why she kept getting so flustered around the angel; guilt.

Thalia dropped her head to the surface of her desk and groaned, her fingers playing with the edges of a letter beside her. How long had it been, now, since she'd last left the chapel herself? It felt like months.

She read and reread the letter in her hands, the request to help an Order priest with a troublesome necromancer in Kessig. She remembered the letter she wrote in response. The Order's forces were stretched thin, and continuing to evade the Inquisition was growing increasingly difficult. It wouldn't be long before she would need to consider relocating. But for now, Thalia needed to get back in the field. At least for a short time. She would have to leave Grete behind to manage communication and run the chapel, but Gerda… yes, she could definitely take Gerda. At least for a time.

Plus, they had Sigarda.

Thalia reached for the tricorne hat that sat on the desk next to her and placed it on her head. She was feeling better already.

* * *

In the cells below, Aedriel watched as a grey haired man in brown robes, Bard, sliced delicately into the corpse of a werewolf lying cold on a stone slab. The man had a near-giddy expression on his face as he saw what was within the body. Aedriel leaned forward to see as well. Inside, alongside the veins that ran throughout it, vines stretched and webbed across the creature's organs. He covered his mouth and nose, doing his best not to breath in the smell of decay.

"This is incredible," Bard said, removing what had to be the werewolf's heart, though it looked wrong and was shrouded in roots like an insect in a cocoon. He sliced once more, into the heart this time. At its core a green flower had blossomed, emitting a sickly glow. "Have you ever seen anything like this?"

 _Yes,_ thought the initiate, wrapping his free hand tightly around the pearl-white gem that hung from a leather strap around his neck.

"No, sir," Aedriel replied.

"Well of course you haven't, that was rhetorical," Bard sighed as he removed the leather apron from his body and pulled the leather surgical gloves off of his hands. "I have to inform the Commander of what we found, as little as that is. Stay here and watch over the corpse."

"Yes, sir," Aedriel watched as Bard climbed the steps and left the cells before turning his eyes back to the flower sprouting from the beast's heart. He tucked his necklace back under his shirt and took a deep breath in an attempt to slow the rate of his beating heart. He remembered the first time he'd seen a flower like that. Aedriel had thought he left it all behind when he left home. When he left Kessig.

Clearly, he had been wrong.


	5. Bellewood

Kessig was colder than Thalia had imagined. That wasn't to say that she hadn't expected it to be cold, of course. In Nephalia, even deep in the forest, gusts of brine-chilled wind would course through the trees and pierce through skin and blood until Thalia felt as cold as a ghoul. She had only expected Kessig to be a bit warmer, just a tad, but she was wrong. The cold was different, to be sure, but not reduced. Less salt and sea, it smelled of the mosses and vegetation that thrived within Kessig's thicker, darker woods. Less dank decay, more damp dog. Thalia had no misconceptions about what sort of threats she and Gerda would face here.

"Well, commander," Gerda said, taking a look around the inn's small room, "I hope you don't mind cozying up tonight."

"With you?" Thalia teased, making a poor attempt at a sultry voice, an intonation that she had never learned how to effectively use, "It's practically a dream come true."

Thalia had to admit that the room was smaller than expected, though. A simple bed, just one though it was large enough for both her and Gerda, and a nightstand beside. A wooden wardrobe stood against a wall opposite the doorway, but neither Gerda nor Thalia had so much as dusted it off yet, and the few belongings they brought had yet to leave their trunks. If it weren't for Avacyn's new inquisition the pair would have stayed in the town's chapel alongside the other clerics and cathars, but their names, if not their faces, were easily recognized. For the time being they at least didn't look the part of "rebellion leader" and "knight-cathar," which in and of itself was a blessing, and they had the weather to thank for that. The trip, especially the last few hours, could easily be described entirely as "wet." Not the dampness that hung, ever-present, in Nephalia, but non-stop drizzle since they had set out. There was something about matted and windswept hair that just took that spark of authority out of someone's physical presence, and even Thalia wasn't immune to that. It certainly added to their haphazard disguises, though, and that was a nice touch as far as Thalia was concerned. Her own clothes were in simple beige and brown tones, plain pants and a loose shirt as well as a jacket for warmth. Gerda wore a day dress of the same colors, though she had opted for a hooded shawl instead of a full jacket. When the lieutenant started poking fun at Thalia for taking such a heavy jacket, Thalia pointed out impatiently that she didn't have as much muscle as Gerda, which she wasn't entirely sure impacted anything anyways.

Thalia had silently resolved never to mention Gerda's muscle mass again when the other woman began, immediately, to flex comically.

"We should probably get in touch with our contact here," Thalia said, lifting her case of items onto the bed and gently lifting her blade out of it, "Michael, was it?"

"Michael, yes," Gerda nodded in response, "And your name is?"

"Well that would be…" Thalia paused for a moment. Gerda had insisted on taking fake names while they were in Bellewood, and Thalia knew that she had been told what her temporary name was, but for the life of her she couldn't remember it. "Anya?"

Gerda rolled her eyes. "Frieda, your name is Frieda."

"Frieda? How in the world did I think it was Anya… Wait, what's your name?

"Helen."

"Huh," Thalia shrugged.

"Though if you would actually pay attention once in a while to-" Gerda was cut off mid lecture, something Thalia truly appreciated, by a knock on their room's door.

"Hello?" Came a feminine voice, drawing out the "o" longer than necessary. "Innkeeper here, may I come in?"

Thalia turned to Gerda, wild eyed, and spoke in a hushed tone, "Wait, what's our cover here?"

Gerda smirked. "You can come in!"

Before Thalia could object the door was flung open with such force that she nearly unsheathed her sword then and there. Upon seeing a young woman, somewhere in her late twenties by the looks of it, beaming with a smile bigger than anything she had ever seen before, she silently tucked the weapon back into her chest. The innkeeper was dressed well enough for her role, a heavy dress of a canvas material, dyed blue but faded, adorning her body. It looked like it would be warm enough, if a bit scratchy. Her straight black hair fell, unrestrained, to just below her shoulder blades and she looked… different than the majority of people Thalia had known in her life. Her large eyes were dark and rounded, and her delicate skin had a paleness to it that Thalia found striking. She looked as if she belonged in a palace, not as a host to weary travelers.

"Oh hello!" The innkeeper's smile didn't waver for a second as she looked between Thalia and Gerda. "You two must be Helen and Frieda, yes?"

"We are, I'm Helen and this," Gerda gestured to Thalia, "is Frieda."

"It is just lovely to have you both, my name is Yelda Mirza." The innkeeper clapped her hands together, and laughed softly when both Gerda and Thalia made faces at her name. "Yes a bit strange I know, but my friends call me Ellie for short and you both are more than welcome to do so as well. Now let me get a look at the two of you!" Yelda immediately rushed to Gerda and patted at her dress softly. "Oh this isn't what you're wearing, is it? This simply won't do at all." Her hands paused on Gerda's arms for a moment and her jaw dropped. "My goodness, what do you do for a living, love? Clear trees with just your bare hands?" Yelda laughed at her own joke.

"Something similar," Gerda joked back.

Thalia meanwhile was trying to make herself as small as possible. But when Yelda's eyes locked onto hers, Thalia knew there was no escaping the woman's motherly rampage.

"Oh and look at you!" Yelda approached Thalia more calmly, but there was still an intense curiosity behind her eyes. "How lovely." She picked a thin lock of matted hair out of Thalia's face with her fingers and tucked it behind her ear. "But your clothes, oh they simply won't do either."

"All due respect, Ms. Mirza," Gerda said.

"Oh call me Ellie, love!"

"Ah, all due respect, Ellie," Gerda amended, getting another happy grin from Yelda, "we are simple people, and we were looking forward to a simple ceremony and some time alone."

"Ceremony? What ceremony?" Thalia asked, finally at her wit's end with lack of understanding. There a familiar feeling to this woman that Thalia couldn't place. A familiarity that she found… off putting.

"'What ceremony' she says!" Yelda laughed again, a deep and hearty sound from the base of her chest. "Must be getting nervous already, yes? Your wedding of course!"

Thalia's jaw dropped, and she began to stumble around words until Gerda came up behind her, wrapping arms around her waist.

"Yes the wedding, of course you remember me telling you it would be here, right?" Gerda teased, knowing full well that her commanding officer, currently a blubbering fool, had entirely forgotten.

"Well you couldn't have chosen a better place, girls, trust me. Bellewood is simply lovely for weddings, especially honeymoons. Nephalia is just so dreary all the time, Stensians will bite your head off in a heartbeat, or neck, rather, and a gang of devils is a better time than anything you can find in Gavony." Yelda finally began to make her way back towards the open door. "Now you'll find the head of our parish here, Michael, in an office in the town chapel. He's a lovely man, but if he says anything rude you point him in my direction and I'll set him straight. And make sure to come by after the vows and I'll make you two a lovely meal to celebrate. Good luck!" With that, Yelda ducked out of the room, closing the door gently behind her, gone as quickly as she arrived.

Thalia finally shrugged out of Gerda's arms, and turned to see a large stupid grin on her lieutenant's face. "You had to go with a wedding?"

"Nope, I didn't have to at all," Gerda said back, "but it certainly was fun. And now we get a free meal too."

"I should have brought Grete, she wouldn't have pulled something like this." Thalia lifted her chest onto the floor and fell backwards onto the bed. The roofing looked solid enough, at least she could look forward to a warm night.

"You said you needed a break, right? Isn't that why you chose to help Bernard personally, instead of sending a couple soldiers?" Gerda dragged her own case over to the wardrobe and set it against the wardrobe's side, not bothering to really unpack anything. "Grete would have been no fun and you know it." Her face fell for a moment. "Not with Odric in his current condition, at least. Too much on her mind."

Thalia turned away from Gerda. She was fully aware that Grete's situation with Odric was strenuous, and not being able to help either of them was killing her. If she was honest, it was part of the reason she had wanted to come to Bellewood herself. A small break from Order activity as a whole, and that did include the situation with Odric, and even with Sigarda. Thalia was still infuriatingly incapable of puzzling through that particular maze of… whatever it was.

"Gerda," Thalia ran her fingers along the handle of her blade in its chest, tracing the intricate weaving of the guard absentmindedly, "have you ever… not been sure how you feel about someone?"

"Of course," Gerda replied without hesitation. Quick in all things, as always. "But that can mean a lot of things, Thalia."

"Yes, I suppose it can."

"Is this about Sigarda?"

Thalia tensed and nearly spun around on her heels before realizing just how telling that would be for her lieutenant. Instead she continued to trace her sword, this time running her finger along the blade and holding her fingers up, as if to inspect its lack of dust, and then sighed as she turned around. "No point in denying it, I suppose."

"No," Gerda shook her head, "I would definitely agree. If it means anything to you, I have the same feelings."

That did make Thalia's head shoot up, and her mouth hung agape as she realized something. Had… had Sigarda kissed other members of the Order? Had she kissed Gerda? Had Thalia's lie about what a kiss meant been taken that literally by the angel? There was an unfamiliar heat in her cheeks again, though this time it wasn't a soft color. Was she… jealous? "The… same?" Thalia's words came out more clipped than she intended.

"Of course. She's the only archangel not to be affected by whatever is taking control of the others. There's no way for us to know if she's immune or if the corruption is simply delayed. After all she doesn't act quite as… distant as the others have. Especially not with you."

"Oh," Thalia's body relaxed. "Yes. That. Very troubling." She heard Gerda approaching before she felt her friend's hand on her shoulder, so she didn't flinch at all when the lieutenant made contact.

"Or is this about the Helvault?" Gerda spoke slowly, testing to see how the words felt in her mouth, and Thalia went stiff again. "What's happening now… it isn't-"

"Stop," Thalia cut Gerda off before the woman could continue, "I don't want to discuss this, Gerda. Not… not now." Thalia felt Gerda remove her hand, but she didn't turn to face her lieutenant. They were both quiet for some time. "We should speak with Michael." Thalia pulled a heavy jacket over herself to brace against the damp cold outside, and Gerda followed suit.

"Yes," Gerda replied, "I suppose we should."

* * *

Sigarda had come to terms with the strange darkness that had fallen over Innistrad since she was visited by her sisters. When she last saw them, the sky had flashed lightning without thunder and was so thick with clouds that it almost seemed as if it the day had never come. When last she saw her sisters they had seemed almost as one and Sigarda remembered how, for the first time in her existence, she failed to tell one sister's voice from the other. Her skin crawled as she remembered, but it was still the turning point for her. A dark day, when she thought she would be joining her lost sister in death. It was a day like this one, Sigarda found herself thinking. But, instead of staring into Avacyn's own eyes, a gaze blank and pitiless, she stood across from a young man in makeshift armor, a pearl white gem hanging from a leather strap around his neck. If she remembered right, which she rarely did, his name was Aedriel.

"Keep your blade raised." Sigarda gripped her scythe lightly with her right hand, the left hanging at her side. Until Thalia asked her to associate more with the members of the Order, Sigarda hadn't realized just how untrained some of the would-be soldiers were. She hadn't realized it was mainly a group comprised of fledglings, as opposed to fully trained cathars. Regrettably, not all of them seemed to have a proclivity for combat. Aedriel was one of those unfortunate volunteers.

"Like this?" He gripped his blade tight with both hands and raised it up, but his hands shook so hard that even his blade couldn't stay still.

"Not quite," Sigarda lowered her weapon. No point in starting the exercise if he couldn't so much as hold the blade steady. She took a step forward and, even though her scythe's blade was nearly dragging along the ground, Aedriel tensed and took a step away. Sigarda stopped and she cocked her head to the side. She couldn't help that particular tic of hers, it was a motion she made whenever she found herself at a loss. She understood why humans would be suspicious of her and her flight but… how long would it be before they trusted her again? She felt something inside of her, a gnawing feeling deep in her gut and a pressure in her chest. She took a step back, but Aedriel didn't relax. "That's enough for today, Aedriel," she sighed into the air, her breath visible and twisting away from her before dissipating.

"Y-yes, my lady," Aedriel finally lowered his blade, but his body was still tense as he walked away, and he didn't turn his back on Sigarda until he was well out of reach.

It took every ounce of Sigarda's energy to not let her wings droop into the wet earth below her. She had known, when she heard of Thalia's plan to go off with Gerda, that the chapel would feel different without the knight-cathar present. But she hadn't expected Thalia's absence to be such a… sharp sensation. It was a twitching in her fingertips, an aching in her legs, and fog in her head. A thought she couldn't get rid of. _Is she safe?_ Of course she was. Thalia was entirely capable of protecting herself, and Gerda, specifically, looked like she could snap the trunk of a fully grown tree in half like a twig. _When will she return?_ As soon as she could, or wanted to, Sigarda knew that. She couldn't blame the woman for wanting a brief respite from her duties as commander, and Sigarda wasn't even sure she could consider what Thalia was doing a "respite" anyways. After all, she was still away on Order business.

 _Does she think of me?_ That was the question that buzzed around in Sigarda's head the most, though she had no way of knowing why. It was infuriating. If Sigarda were anyone less than who she was, she was sure her strange infatuation with Thalia would begin affecting how well she operated within the Order. Of course even she couldn't deny that it had already changed her, to some degree. She'd never asked a human to call her by her first name before, without a title, and she'd never addressed members of the church as anything other than their rank before a few days ago. The sheer casual nature of it made Sigarda feel as if she were breaking some unspoken rule and the thought made the side of her mouth curl into a half-smile.

Sigarda wore that smile for a moment longer, allowing herself this moment of broken decorum. She raised her hand and traced her lips lightly with her finger, something she'd been doing a lot lately, though never in the presence of Thalia. She knew that, eventually, she would have to confess to Thalia. She'd known what a kiss like theirs meant from the beginning.

* * *

"What do you mean you don't 'require our services' anymore?" Thalia huffed and crossed her arms over her chest, still not fully recovered from her short spat with Gerda earlier.

"Well, um…" Michael stammered out his reply, clearly not familiar with speaking to someone with as much rank as Thalia, "what I meant to say is that ghoulcaller is… gone. We assume, at least. Their ghouls are, that is."

"I see." Thalia did her best to hide her disappointment, scanning the small office. 'Small' wasn't exactly the most generous word to use, especially since the office itself was about as large as her own back in Nephalia, but Thalia was finding herself in an increasingly non-generous mood. "And you hadn't thought to give us some word regarding that change?"

"Well, miss Commander, after receiving your letter we did reply as quickly as we could, but it had become clear that, well," Michael gestured to Gerda and Thalia and then to the vastness of the township outside the chapel, as if the pair had forgotten where they were, "that you had already departed. Actually, I had hoped you would be able to at least clear the rest of the ghouls he'd raised as well, but-"

"He?" Gerda interrupted.

"Umm, yes miss Lieutenant. The ghoulcaller was a young man with a peculiar method for raising the dead."

"Peculiar how?" Gerda pressed.

"Well it seemed as if he raised them initially in a fairly standard method, but afterwards… the dead were preserved and strengthened by some sort of strange plant life that encased the organs and worked its way through the corpses."

The room was quiet for a moment, both Thalia and Gerda exchanged looks, and thought back to the werewolf corpse below the cathedral in Nephalia.

"And you're sure that the threat to your township is gone, Michael?" Thalia asked.

"I am certain, Bellewood as is safe as… well, as safe as it can be, given the times."

"Then Gerda and I will be returning to Nephalia." Thalia didn't wait for a response from the cleric, or for Gerda to object, as Thalia knew she would. Before she reached the cathedral's large double doors and exited the building, she heard it. A high pitched shrieking from outside the walls, and town citizens screaming. The crackle of flames, and words. Condemnations coming from a singing voice that rang with righteous accusations. Thalia threw the doors open, and her heart dropped into her stomach when she saw the source of the sound. There, hovering midair by several feet, was an angel, her sword encased in flames.

"Michael, call your cathars!" Thalia shouted to the cleric, and he nodded and bolted up a winding staircase. A moment later the pealing of the chapel's bell rang through the city. The townsfolk rushed away from the angel and her blade, keenly aware of how useless their home would be as defence against her, and the angel herself turned her attention to the chapel, with Thalia and Gerda standing directly in her path. Thalia reached for her side, remembering again that her blade was sheathed and safe back in the room of the town's tavern, where she knew Gerda's was as well.

"Thalia, perhaps we should-"

"Run?" Thalia interrupted her lieutenant, "Yes, I think that's a good idea." Both women turned heel and bolted back inside the chapel. As they angel dived for them, they knew they wouldn't have time to close the doors before she entered the chapel herself. Thankfully the chapel, as most, doubled as an armory. The pair ran for the weapon rack across the room, each of them grabbing a sword and turning back to the angel, who was now solidly on the ground, her blade in front of her. Thalia's blade was heavier than she was used to, but it was still something she could work with. Gerda, meanwhile, was much better at improvising.

The angel, now screaming rage without words, beat her wings against the air and rocketed at Thalia, flames arcing through the air behind her. Thalia raised her blade to prepare for the strike, but Gerda was quicker. The woman squatted down low, grabbed one of the pews by its base and lifted up, hurling the wood into the angel and knocking her to the ground with a grunt.

Thalia wasted no time, but in the moments it took her to get to the angel, she was already back on her feet, her eyes no less enraged than before. Thalia thrusted with her blade, but the weight was unfamiliar in her hands and the angel deflected it easily, a puff of flames curling around Thalia's sword and heating it, bending it slightly out of shape. The knight-cathar's grip tightened, and a faint gold light encased her sword. The light didn't correct her sword's shape, but as Thalia traded blows with the angel's sword, her own was no longer being warped by the heat. And still, despite it all, Thalia was being pushed back closer and closer to the wall to her back, the twisting flames coming closer and closer to her face with each strike.

"Gerda!" Thalia shouted.

"On it!" Gerda's reply came from closer than Thalia would have expected, and suddenly the angel was knocked again to the ground, pinned beneath another wooden pew that Gerda had hoisted up from its original position. Gerda pressed down on the pew with all the strength she had as the angel shook and flailed.

Thalia rushed to them both and raised her shining blade above the angel's head. For a moment she met the angel's bloodshot eyes with her own as the creature shrieked again, blood streaming from her eyes, nose, and mouth, and then… stopped. The angel stopped everything. Screaming, moving, even her wings stopped their flailing. Thalia's grip on her sword loosened. The angel's eyes were still open, but the rage and light that were there moments before had vanished. They were dull.

"Thalia?" Gerda asked hesitantly, unable to see the angel herself.

"She's… she's dead."

"Are you positive? Not that I don't trust you, it's just that if I get off and she-"

"I'm positive," Thalia replied with a stiff kick to the angel's shoulder, an act that in previous days she would have never thought of doing.

"Alright then," Gerda finally removed herself from the pew and looked to the angel herself, her face falling as she did.

"What is it Gerda? What's wrong?"

"Thalia, her shoulder…"

Thalia walked to the other side of the angel, looking more closely at the pauldron over her left shoulder, and the intricately etched bird on it. Her heart dropped into her stomach.

"Gerda, that can't be…" Thalia's voice raked across her throat, a dry, hot wind.

"It is," Gerda said, her face grim, "this angel is from Flight Heron. Sigarda's flight is compromised."

Thalia couldn't breathe.

"Thalia?" Gerda placed her hand on her commander's shoulder. "Come on, let's go back to the inn. Ellie promised us a free meal, remember?"

"We have to leave."

"We… what?"

"We have to leave." Thalia was already rushing out of the cathedral, something between a fast walk and a slow jog.

"Leave? Leave to where?" Gerda huffed as she followed Thalia, trying to keep pace with her clearly disgruntled commander.

"To Nephalia. To base." And she finished, in the back of her mind, _To Sigarda._

* * *

Yelda watched as Thalia and Gerda rode away from her inn, their night's stay cancelled last minute for reasons she didn't understand. When they were out of sight, she returned to her room, candles flickering on the walls, and she heard light skittering across the floor behind her. She turned on her heels, her raven hair splaying across her shoulder as she came face to face with an amalgam of stone, roots, and dead earth that stood half as tall as she was, almost humanlike in shape.

"Well?" Yelda spoke, her voice laced with magic. She waited, a soft chittering echoing in her mind. "The angel? I hadn't expected her to react so strongly. I had hoped to have them both here for the night, at least." Yelda waved her hand over the corrupted elemental, breaking it down into five smaller versions of itself. "Find my sisters, tell them that the Guardian is returning sooner than planned, and they must delay their plans. That I have a new one."

Yelda ran her fingers over her desk, tracing the outline of a piece of parchment, beautiful calligraphy decorating it. She lifted the invitation, folded it delicately, and tucked it into a pocket of her dress.

"And that I will be needing a mask and ballgown."


End file.
